SODS
by Darclord
Summary: This is a thing I got in my head and couldn't get out until I wrote it down. Numbus 1through5 figure prominently in the first 2 chapters, but then I relenquish the story to my own charachters for a while. If that's a sin don't read this. PLEASE comment


Once again I'm entering this story for review. I entered it abiut a year ago and never finished it. Sorry, but I have work and a 2-year-old future KND operative to contend with. I make no promises of finishing it now. Forgiveness. I WILL try.

**S.O.D.S.**

Special Operations Decommissioning Squad

**+ Chapter One +**

Theories of Conspiracy

Five years ago:

"...attempted attack on the Moonbase was thwarted by none other than Numbuh 11 herself," said the extremely concerned looking newscaster from the Moonbase command deck. An adolescent Cree Lincoln could be seen in the background restraining one of the teenage miscreants. "The teenagers claimed to be from a terrorist group calling themselves Gothic Red," the reporter continued, and then switched instantly from overt concern to cheerful lightheartedness. "Of course the legend of Gothic Red has existed as long as the Kids Next Door themselves, with as many interpretations as there are operatives to interpret. Like Bigfoot or learning through fun, Gothic Red has long been considered an urban..."

Four years ago:

"...myth," said a very blond and bronze skinned boy to his friend. "There's no such thing as Gothic Red, dude."

"Shah! There is too, dude!" said the second boy on the beach. "I heard from a guy who heard from his cousin who heard from a guy at school who's older brother's girlfriend's friend said that Gothic Red was this punk rock chick who's working with some monks to, like, steal KND cadets to use for slaves in some ice cream mine in Tibet or something!"

"No way!" said the first boy, impressed by his companion's credentials.

"Totally way!" answered the second.

"Somebody should so something, dude," said the possibly more intelligent boy. "Those are, like, our..."

Three years ago:

"Cadets!" yelled Numbuh 60 to his captive audience of new recruits. "You may have heard the rumors and legends of Gothic Red." The group of cadets cringed and whispered among themselves. "You may have heard that Gothic Red is a five hundred year old vampire kid that still lurks in the quiet corridors and dark places of the Training Center." He smiled benevolently. "Well, I'm here to assure you that these rumors and legends are completely, and absolutely...," Numbuh 60 paused for dramatic effect, "...TRUE!" he yelled. The training Operative smiled with satisfaction at seeing his cadets cringe and squeal. "Gothic Red stalks these rooms and hallways just waiting to drain the blood of any recruit that fails to pass muster."

"But...but...but, sir," said a small cowering girl from amongst the cadets, "I thought Gothic Red was..."

Two years ago:

"...Numbuh Zero," said a poncho bedecked Mexican girl.

"Si," said the boy sitting in a chair beside her as they relaxed during the hottest part of the day. "He's working outside los Chicos del Barrio in a lone quest to fight adult tyranny."

Another girl sighed scornfully and said, "You guys are loco. Gothic Rojo is a computer..."

One year ago:

"...virus?" said the bartender skeptically as he dried out a root beer mug with a mostly clean rag.

"Yeah, man," said a somewhat chunky boy in a blue shirt and pilot's goggles. Gothic Red is a computer virus that's in the moon base mainframe right now!" The bartender still looked unconvinced. "And if anyone connected to the mainframe types all the letters of the alphabet in a certain order, during a full moon, except for the letters g,o,t,h,i,c,r,e, and d," the boy took a sip of his root beer to heighten the suspense, "then every KND operative will be listed as thirteen and scheduled for immediate decommissioning!" he finished triumphantly.

The bartender sat his glass down on the counter and looked his favorite patron right in the eye. "You want another root beer, there, Hoagie?"

The pilot looked his friend right back in the eye and shrugged. "Sure, why..."

Present day:

"...not a myth!" shouted the short blond Australian boy.

"Fine, fine," said a tall black girl as she lounged on the sofa in Sector V's tree house. "Gothic Red ain't a urban myth." She flipped a page in the magazine she was reading. "Whatever you say, Numbuh 4." The girl pushed the brim of her red baseball cap up a bit with a finger containing more coolness than most people's entire family history. "But, Numbuh 5's gonna tell ya one thing right now. She may not know who or what Gothic Red is, but it SHO ain't Numbuh 86."

"_cough_computervirus_cough"_

"Look," said Numbuh 4, as he rushed around the room in search of a pen and paper, "I can prove it!"

"_cough_computervirus_cough_"

"Give it a rest, Numbuh 4," said a bald boy who inexplicably wore a pair of black sunglasses indoors. "We still have a few mission parameters to go over before school tomorrow."

"No, look, Numbuh 1!" said Numbuh 4 excitedly.

"_cough_comp…"

"Will you cut that out Numbuh 2?!" screamed Numbuh 4. "I'm TRYING to make a point here!"

"Whaaat?" said a slightly older version of the boy from the bar, his tone ringing with hurt innocence. "I was just clearing my…."

"Just pipe down and look at this, virus boy," said Numbuh 4. He began writing on the paper and talking at the same time. This didn't work. He then started writing silently with his tongue sticking out and sweat dripping onto the paper. Gu7pek Rob, he wrote. Don't laugh, illiteracy is a terrible thing.

"Well, at least he got the 'G' and the 'R' right," said Numbuh 5 with false generosity.

Numbuh 4 was so intent on his work that he managed to ignore her. "Okay," he said, breathing heavily, G is the seventh letter of the alphabet and R is the eighteenth, right?"

"You stayed up all night countin' didn't you?"

Numbuh 4 stared daggers into Numbuh 5's grinning face before continuing. "Aaaanyway," he showed the others where he had written 7 and an 18, "so you take the seven and the one from the eighteen and put the little side to side line doohickey from the G between them and you get seven minus one." He threw the pen and paper down triumphantly and looked into three utterly blank faces.

"Soooo, when do you think Numbuh 3 is gonna get back with that candy?" said Numbuh 2.

"Guuyys!" whined Numbuh 4. "Isn't it obvious? Seven minus one is six. Put the six with the eight and what do you get?"

"Sixty eight," chorused the trio.

"Eighty six!" said Numbuh four triumphantly. "What?" Numbuh 4 picked up his writing utensils, stuck his tongue out again and began scratching his head, looking for the source of mathematical betrayal.

"Told ya it was a computer virus," said Numbuh 2 smugly.

Numbuh 1 sighed heavily and said, "Look, guys, I hate to burst your bubbles, but if you'd researched the KND Archives, like I have," he paused meaningfully, "you'd know that Gothic Red is mentioned in texts dating back hundreds of years, well before computers were invented, or our favorite decomissionner was born."

Numbuhs 2 and 4 hung their heads, crestfallen.

"This Gothic Red thing crops up every year or so," Numbuh 1 continued. "Whatever Gothic Red was, it's now just a marketing ploy to sell T-shirts to gullible conspiracy theorists." Numbuh 1, non-gullible conspiracy theorist, turned and walked over to the computer console. "Now, if we can just go over these mission specs we can all get on with our lives."

Numbuh 2 and Numbuh 4 looked sheepishly at each other and broke into a couple of wide grins. "Vampire!" they said together.

**+ End Chapter One +**


End file.
